


the boys time can't capture

by PrinceDrew



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Character Study, Connor POV, It's a sad one boys, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Sleepovers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, YA Novel-esque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-20 23:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18133718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDrew/pseuds/PrinceDrew
Summary: Evan writes, and Connor draws. Evan sings, and Connor dances. Evan lives and Connor -Well. Connor lives too. He isn’t quite sure how or why, but he lives, like people often do, and sometimes he wonders if this was a mistake, all a mistake, but then Evan will look at him just so, and the world feels - the world feels okay again. Just for that moment.Two boys, and their loneliness together.





	the boys time can't capture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nosecoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/gifts).



> Okay, so, this is a combination mini-Christmas/apology present for my dear friend [nosecoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee) because I'm like, an Objectively Terrible Person who hasn't finished her actual Christmas present so I'm very sorry! I hope you enjoy this in the meantime Lou!
> 
> The title is from Fall Out Boy's 'The Kids Aren't Alright'. Enjoy!

_'they told me to stay from kids like you -_

_without realising i wasn't any better'_

* * *

Connor is there for a lot of Evan’s firsts.

He’s there for the first time Evan smokes a cigarette - 

_(where he stood close to him, shielding him because he was scared someone would see, even though it was late and they were alone in his room, and he lit the cigarette for him and the orange glow made him look so beautiful)_

\- and he’s there for the first time Evan gets drunk -

_(where he looked so scared and unhappy, not quite crying, not quite steady, and he was leaning on him, looking so tired, and he kept saying, over and over again, “I don’t like this, please, make it stop, don’t wanna be drunk anymore,”)_

\- and he’s there for the first time Evan gets stoned.

_(where they were alone again, naturally, and he didn’t like it any more than he liked drinking or cigarettes, but he was so quiet, so still, and he looked at everything as though he loved it more than he could ever love himself)_

And in a way, he supposes it’s fair because Evan feels one of his first. First friend. Not ‘first friend in high school’ or ‘first friend not bribed into liking me’. Just ‘first friend’.

Though he knows his mom would disagree, would tell him otherwise and say Zoe was his first friend. And he’s sure that’s true, knows it to be true, because when they were little it was always Zoe-and-Connor, like Fred-and-George or Calvin-and-Hobbes or Max-and-Ruby, but that was then, and this is now, where they speak maybe once every two days, and sometimes he can’t remember what books she likes to read, or if she draws in her notebooks like she used to.

So. Evan is his first friend. First best friend. First friend who knows Connor better than he knows himself.

First real friend.

_(how sad is it that his first friend was in the senior year of high school?)_

It was an accidental friendship, or at least that what Connor tells himself because that’s easier to believe than the alternative. Evan had seen the book Connor was reading, and he asked him about it because he heard of Two Boys Kissing before but hadn’t read it yet, so Connor loaned it to him, half expecting it to come back covered in coffee and pencil markings. He didn’t expect Evan to hand it back alongside Fun Home, complete with a stammered explanation of _‘I thought you might like this,’_ and soon they were exchanging books more often than not.

And then they’re friends. As if they always have been friends.

_(how strange would it be now, to not be his friend?)_

Evan likes books where the endings are happy. He reads a lot of poetry and he underlines the lines he likes. When Connor takes him out for a drive, Evan reads aloud, sometimes prose, sometimes poetry. Prose takes more time than poetry, almost like a serial, a new chapter every drive, every journey.

_(they’re on chapter four of the outsiders. he’s already thinking about what book to read next. watership down? maybe a play, but which one? what would he like?)_

It’s not that they’re alike. Not at all. Connor’s aware of the looks they get, aware of how strange his near-black outfits look next to the relative neatness of Evan’s polo shirts and khakis, like they’re Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club, except minus all the weird weird uneasy elements that came with every 80s movie.

But he gets it. They’re from two different worlds - Connor’s house is large but minimalist, Evan’s is small and cluttered. Connor is all external, explosions and quick attacks and quicker defences, a supernova in motion, but Evan is internal, inside his head and inside his mind, imploding when things go wrong, a black hole alone and isolated -

_(he’s been talked off the ledge before. had to be held and loved by him, by his mom.)_

— and Evan seems to want to live, more than anything, he wants to live, even when he says he doesn’t want to, he wants to live, every little twitch and habit a small reminder of that fact. So they’re not alike, because Connor wants to die tomorrow and doesn’t ~~know why~~ care how.

_(he has a habit of resting his hand on his pulse points when he’s anxious. when he’s scared. when he’s sad. that’s how he knows he wants to live.)_

“Not to uh, not to sound like a teacher,” Evan would say, all quietness, all warmth, all tired, “but where do you see yourself in like, uh, in - like after college?”

Connor would shrug, and not look at him, and would say he didn’t know. 

Evan would always smile, like he understands. “I’d like to do something with trees,” he’d mumble. “Or maybe writing.”

Someday, he would tell him the truth. That Connor never saw himself graduating high school, let alone living to graduate college.

Someday.

_(he already knew about past incidents. of pills and rope and not-so-accidental car crashes. it’s why he never pushed the issue)_

They skip school together, sometimes. Not always. Connor’s attendance improves, if only because he feels like he has to be with Evan, or someone like Jared Kleinman would hurt him. Just sometimes Connor doesn’t want to be there, or Evan doesn’t, or they both don’t, so they’ll get into Connor’s car, and he’ll just drive, away from their high school and away from their town.

Sometimes they go to Evan’s house and spend the entire watching films. Sometimes Connor takes him to the abandoned orchard, or to the small woods, where they spend the day lying by the small stream that runs through, Evan resting his head in Connor’s lap.

And on those days, those days where they can’t bear to be around anyone but each other, Evan writes, and Connor draws. Evan sings, and Connor dances. Evan lives and Connor -

Well. Connor lives too. He isn’t quite sure how or why, but he lives, like people often do, and sometimes he wonders if this was a mistake, all a mistake, but then Evan will look at him just so, and the world feels - the world feels okay again. Just for that moment.

Perhaps this is what love is.

_(does he love him?)_

_(he thinks about it. thinks about the way he listens to him when no one else does. thinks about how sometimes how he will hold his hand when they’re alone, and just keep it there. thinks about him asleep underneath a tree - he smiles in his sleep, how many people know that? - dappled by sunlight)_

_(yes. he does.)_

He knows this won’t last forever. He knows some day, he’ll say something that will destroy Evan, destroy himself and all his hope, destroy everything they have. Knows that he’ll be alone again, like always.

Still. That day is not today. 

On weekends when his mom is working late, Evan will ask Connor to sleep at his, and Connor always agrees, because time spent at Evan’s home is time spent away from his house, and he knows Evan hates being lonely.

 _(on the bad nights, nights where he can’t stand just_ being _, he asks if he can borrow his cigarettes. on awful nights, they get high together. that’s how he knows he’s bad)_  
They’re in his room now, Connor lying on his back in Evan’s lap. They hadn’t done anything in particular that evening - Evan wasn’t up for talking, and so Connor just made him hot chocolate and let him pick something to watch.

He tells him about a camping trip his parents took him and Zoe on once. How he almost drowned and all he could remember was hearing Zoe’s screams from underneath the water.

Evan doesn’t say much in response to that. Just holds him, and says he’s very glad Connor didn’t drown that day, even if sometimes Connor doesn’t think that himself.

_(he doesn’t know what he would do without him)_

"You deserve better than me," Evan murmurs, and he sounds so far away.

"But you’re the best I have,” Connor says. He finds Evan’s hand. Holds it. “No one deserves me.”

_(two scared scrawny kids. too afraid to do anything but look after each other.)_

“But you’re so _good_ ,” Evan tells him, and he sounds so honest and so much like he believes it true that it hurts.

"Go to sleep, Evan," Connor says to him, though he knows that Evan will shake his head in response. They stay like that for a while, in the silent dark, Connor holding onto Evan’s hand, listening to the sound of him breathing. He turns, so he can see Evan. So he can make sure he’s okay.

"...Y'know," Evan says at last, voice heavy with sleep. "They told me... to stay from kids like you." He looks Connor, and he smiles. "Dunno why. 's not like I'm any better."

"Sleep," Connor murmurs, because it’s all he can do. He rests his head on Evan’s chest and waits until he closes his tired eyes and lets himself sleep.

Connor watches him, and listens to the gentle beat of Evan’s heart - _he lives, he lives, he lives_ \- and when he’s sure that Evan is asleep, he kisses him, just once, on his cheek.

_(he loves him.)_

* * *

_'so_ i’m _gonna stick around. even if us two negatives end up_

_making some sort of fucked up positive'_

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway! Please go read my awesome [friend's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee) fics, and comment on them, because she is amazing. 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this fic! If you have any questions, liked the fic, have feedback or noticed any mistakes, post in the comments below, or at my tumblr [here](http://princedrewwrites.tumblr.com). I'm on there pretty often now. Or, if you just liked the fic and don't want to say anything, just leave a kudos. There's no pressure either way.


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